Needs of the One, Sorrows of the Many
by GothicCheshire
Summary: Reflections on a life that had been, a life that should have been, and a life that never got the chance.
1. Introductions

_This, ladies and gentlemen, is something I have dubbed my angsty story of doom. My goal: make you sob your eyes out, you very likely will eventually. This story is new for me in two ways, one, this is mainly focused on Bones, two, this is my first MAIN CHARACTER DEATH. You will figure out who it is in this chapter. The format is the same, but this will be done through flashbacks seen through a documentary type thing. It should be pretty easy to tell when it cuts back to the person watching it. This is a basic introduction, it's short. There is no slash in it whatsoever, but there are mentions of certain...things that could be offensive, a big theme is suicide for example, once it amps up a bit. The characters have the potential to be mildly OOC, if it is horribly so, I apologize. One other thing, this is set in the AU Abrams Vs, but set in the future, once again, you can probably figure that out through this one. That was long...now, I hope you enjoy it. _  
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A man sat in front of a recorder, his eyes closed and his lips pressed tightly together. He was a little over middle aged, his brown hair only just beginning to be flecked with gray, lines around his mouth and eyes reflecting years of happiness, and then longer years of sorrow.

Another, younger man sat behind the recorder, his blue eyes hidden behind spectacles, his vision that rare type that couldn't be fixed even with the advances in medicine, completely focused on the older man. A PADD was held in his hand and a stylus held over that. His red hair was flattened to his head, his suit was starched and his expression was professional, yet sympathetic, and all the while the recorder did its job.

"We can get started any time you wish to, Doctor."

"What yer askin' for is pretty steep, Mr. Damon. I agreed, but that don't make it easy," Hazel eyes opened then, staring into the blue quietly. Damon disguised his flinch carefully, in all his years of documenting events ranging from the traumatic to the joyful; he had never seen eyes that were so hollow.

"I understand. Would you care for a drink?"

Dr. Leonard H. McCoy gave him a small bitter smile, "Unless you got a shot of proper bourbon, I ain't interested."

Damon gave him a small smirk, and stood up placing the PADD and stylus on his chair. Walking over to a small cabinet up against the far wall, he opened it to reveal bottles upon bottles of liquor. McCoy gave a small smirk and a low whistle.

"Alright, bourbon it is, on the rocks?" Damon asked smiling at him widely, and Leonard shook his head in sarcastic amusement.

"Naturally."

"Coming right up," Damon smiled, pouring him a glass and adding ice. He handed it over to him, keeping out of the frame so the viewers could just see his hand. McCoy nodded his thanks, taking a sip and resting his glass and hand on the red velvet chair he was sitting on.

"Alright," he said softly, taking a deep breath, "I'm as ready as I'm gonna get." McCoy straightened up, hollow eyes examining the man quietly.

"Good, for clarities sake, state your name, and what position you were in during the time of the incident," Damon said quietly.

"'The Incident', is that what we're calling it now?" He gave a small scoff, before sighing, "Alright. My name is Dr. Leonard H. Bo-…" he swallowed visibly, "Leonard H. McCoy. I was Chief Medical Officer on the Starship _Enterprise_, under the command of Captain…James T. Kirk, known to most of us as Jim." He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "God, I miss him."

"He was a remarkable man."

"Remarkable nothing, more like extraordinary, extraordinarily lucky if nothing else..."

"We all have to run out of luck sometimes…"

Leonard snorted, "He never ran out of luck. He just… He was the youngest Starfleet Captain in history, never knew his dad, you heard that shit about his mother, right?"

"Yes, I think we all heard that."

"Mmm…"

"So, what you're saying is that he was thrust into a situation he wasn't prepared for."

"He cared too much. He couldn't take the sudden shift in responsibility, even with…that pointy-eared hobgoblin…" He cleared his throat, and took a quick swallow of bourbon.

"Commander Spock."

"Yeah. Chief Pointy Ears himself… If there was ever a pair that was destined for greatness, that was them, and they made it too. They got so far, and then… Well… You know what happened. It's the reason you're here trying to see what happened from the eyes of one of his closest friends from before the shit hit the fan. Jim started cracking." Those hazel eyes slowly filled with more sorrow than Damon could take while still watching him. He looked to the ground and sighed,

"I'm sure that was difficult to have happen…" Damon started, but Leonard McCoy began laughing,

"That's the worst bit. We never knew. All the time it was happening under our very noses, and neither Spock nor I knew that he was struggling like that. He kept a lid on it, hidden so tight and deep within him, that even a Vulcan couldn't pick up on it."

"Do you know how it started to affect his daily life?"

"Hmph… Do I know how it started? No, I only realized there was a problem when Jim cut off life support to the medical bay, with my nurses and patients and me, inside it. Spock was the one who started listening to his journals and piecing the full story together. I never have."

"Would you like to?"

Leonard's head jerked up, staring at those blue eyes behind those ridiculous spectacles, watching as he pulled a small data chip out of his pocket, placing it on the table in front of him. McCoy's eyes traced over it closely, seeing 'Starfleet Property, Borrowed with Permission' engrained into the cover.

That small piece of data had no idea how important it was. It didn't know of the nights a man had spent sleepless, of the inevitable leave from Starfleet to go back to Georgia. It did not know how it felt to be ripped asunder and have the core of your being shredded. It didn't know what loss felt like, and it had no meaning of 'closure', but it was going to be a part of it for this man.

McCoy took a breath and nodded, "I wanna listen. I…I need to know."


	2. The Documentary Part 1

_Okay, I had a bit of fun with the way I show scenes that happen in the past, and scenes that happen in the present (in this story verse thing...) As mentioned there is potential for O.O.C. moments, I have tried to keep it as in character as possible, but we shall see how well I did. _

_That said, I do not own Star Trek, merely Damon, the plot, and a few other random things that might crop up and you won't recognize, I also hope you enjoy._  
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The two of them moved to a quiet room, the camera tracing Bones every move, hesitant step after hesitant step, their destination a screen on the back wall, and a lone chair in front of it. Bones sat as Damon uploaded the data.

"You ready doctor?"

"As I'm gonna get."

With that, it was started.

_***This Film is property of Starfleet, it has been edited for civilian view***_

Jim sat in front of his desk, blue eyes wide and vibrant and alive, but also filled with sadness. "This is Captain James T. Kirk… private log. A crewman died today. I…I had to contact his family; it was something I felt I owed them. It shouldn't have happened. It was under my orders, he shouldn't have died. I don't…I know this is going to happen. It's something everyone signed up for, but it's just… It's difficult."

He took a breath, straightening slightly. "But, as previously stated, I'm the captain. I have to get used to it. As much as I do not want to, as much as the thought chills me to my bones, I have to get used to it…." The door chimed at that moment, and Jim, forgetting all about his private log turned around, "Enter."

"Captain." As soon as Spock's voice came from the speakers, Bones hunched, his eyes closing and his face pinching in something like despair. Damon noticed, pausing the clip mid frame, giving Bones a moment to compose himself while simultaneously framing in that one image exactly how important the two men on screen were to each other. Where Jim had been upset before, at the sight of Spock a wide beaming grin had stretched across his face, and Spock to those who truly knew him, could be seen with something of an amused eyebrow raise, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth.

Bones took a few deep breaths, and then indicated for him to play it again, there was a small countdown before,

"Spock!" Jim said and the half Vulcan gave him a small nod. "What brings you here?"

Spock tensed before straightening slightly and moving forward, his body language formal if not mildly familiar, "Doctor McCoy wished for me to come and, I believe his words were, 'get your puny brain out of your idiocy, and cheer you up.' I do not know how I can be used for the second, but I have been known for 'getting your puny brain out of your idiocy,'" Spock answered, an eyebrow rising in mild consternation at his words, Jim's laughter an immediate response, although there was a slow set of something like sadness creeping along the edges, he was still thinking of the crewmember. Bones gave a soft scoff from where he was sitting, watching the screen like a starving man watches food.

"He shall be coming shortly; I believe he is bringing something 'special'…" Spock said softly, moving over to the small table that had been set up with a tri-d chessboard, waiting for Jim to sit down as well.

Jim didn't, looking down at him anger reflecting in his face and the set of his mouth, "How can you sit there like that Spock, chess, drinks? A man's dead. He was killed, and we just…"

"Jim," it was the first time he had addressed him as such the entire conversation, and Jim automatically fell silent. "We must not punish ourselves for the loss of the dead. It does nothing for us, and it does nothing for them. We, captain, are going to play chess, and we are going to I believe…'toast' to his memory. Understand Jim, I do know what loss is, and I also know how to move on with it, and how bad it is to tie yourself to it. You must not tie yourself to it, Jim; you must learn to let it go. To celebrate their life, and continue living your own."

Jim blinked, slightly taken aback, and McCoy from where he sat on the lone chair, staring up at the screen to his past gave a soft smile and a low whistle, "Damn…"

Jim gave him a small tiny lilting smile, the words absorbing into his brain and slowly entering his heart. "Thank you, Spock."

"One does not thank the truth, Captain." That said, Spock set up the board, and Jim sat down, a minute into the game and McCoy entered, bearing a bottle of ale and glasses.

The differences to the McCoy on the screen and the McCoy in the chair were glaringly obvious and heartbreaking. Aside from the lack of gray hair, the McCoy on the screen greeted the sight before him with a smile, very pleased to see that Jim was taking care of himself; the one sitting on the chair looked like he hadn't smiled in years. One hazel pair of eyes were bright, even when they were glaring, the other pair were dark, worn. This fact was further emphasized by the shot that detailed McCoy's face as he was watching, the hollow short of detachment he had.

"Well I don't know what you said hobgoblin, but thank you."

"You don't thank truth McCoy," Jim said with a small smile, causing a snort from the doctor as he sat down, poured the ale into two glasses and handed one to Jim, catching sight of the recorder as he did so.

"Jim, you might want to turn that thing off."

"Huh?" Jim looked back, saw what he was looking at and gave an "Oh!" before picking it up and turning it off with a sheepish smile and a "sorry."

The screen went dark before reforming itself in an angle and location that made McCoy realize that he was watching the security feeds. It wasn't anything particularly interesting that had been focused on. Just the empty observation deck. McCoy blinked in slight confusion before the whoosh of the doors came and Jim walked in. He was alone, his head was bowed, and he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made it to the railing in front of the large window looking out into space and leaned on it. The scene didn't change for a while, the numbers in the far right corner counting down the minutes and seconds. He recognized the date.

"Doctor," Damon said softly, catching his attention. McCoy looked back at him when the screen paused. "The scene does not change much, but I am guessing there is some reason for it, otherwise Mr. Spock would not have included it. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on the reason."

"That date there was one of the most spectacularly butchered missions in the Enterprise's rather cursed career. I don't know why the hobgoblin included it, but I will tell you my guess. Neither Spock nor I were able to be around Jim, I was too busy trying to keep the hobgoblin alive; he was too busy flat lining. It was a science mission, Spock was running it.

"But the fact of the matter is that Jim had answered a distress call from another ship. While he was doing that, Spock and his team were being picked off one by one. They tried to hail the Enterprise several times. It wasn't until Spock managed to boost the signal and we began returning that we realized there was something wrong. We managed to beam Spock back, and two of the remaining Science Officers, both of them were human, and both had mortal wounds. They died, and Spock almost followed them out. The reason for this scene, Mr. Damon, is highlighting exactly what our captain did when he was unoccupied and didn't have us around after a crisis."

Damon paused, staring up at the screen and the man resting against the railing as though it was the only thing holding him up and nodded slowly. The movement resumed, and when there was the beep of a communicator, Jim flipped it open quickly, "Kirk here…"

"Jim, you can visit now. Spock's stable, the other two… They're dead, Jim. I'm sorry." McCoy's voice crackled through the communicator and Jim winced at the pronouncement, but seemed to brighten at the prospect of seeing Spock. But only just.

"I'll be right down…" Jim said softly, and left.

There was one last shot of an empty observation deck before it cut out.

The next scene opened with Spock, sitting in a mostly unused part of the ship on a stool, the only observer being the ones viewing the security camera, fingers dancing along an upright, harp like instrument. A Vulcan Lyre. The melody that came was lilting, twisting and sad, but strangely hopeful. He was pale and he seemed to be holding himself carefully. He looked run in. A moment later the door opened and Jim came in quietly, Spock was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't even notice.

The captain took the opportunity to sit on the floor near him, watching Spock's fingers as he played with his head propped on his chin and his elbow resting on his knee. Finally the last notes faded out, and Jim applauded him quietly, causing Spock to jolt slightly.

Jim gave him an apologetic smile, and gave a soft, "So this is what you do when you want to show emotion. I'm sorry I walked in on you like that, but I was wandering the ship and heard that rather remarkable music playing and had to see where it was coming from. You play well."

"Thank you, captain…"

"Jim, please, just because you actually managed to say 'thank you' doesn't mean you get out of it. Call me Jim," Kirk smiled at him wearily.

Spock didn't reply, instead sinking to the floor in front of him. "Captain, I would like to offer my apologies for the deaths of the individuals under my command." Jim was shaking his head before he even finished speaking.

"Spock, don't. It wasn't your fault."

"They were under my command…."

"And you had been trying to contact the ship ever since it went to hell. If I hadn't gone gallivanting off after another ship, then that wouldn't have happened. It was not your fault."

"Jim, you were rescuing that ship. It was unavoidable; I should have been concentrating on other ways to get the crew out of danger."

"Spock…I read your report. There was nothing you could have done."

"Then I suppose the most logical course of action would be to declare it unfortunate, but unavoidable." Jim blinked, staring at the half Vulcan in front of him with wide eyes, realizing he had been played.

"Why that pointy eared genius bastard!" Bones crowed out from his chair, showing more animation than had yet been seen.

"I apologize, Jim… But it needed to be done. I have been aware of your nightly activities for a while now. I wished to talk to you about it, but you have been avoiding my company. What you have seen and said is the truth, it is a way of letting out my emotions, and I do play, but I needed to gain your attention. Please, Jim... I believe you have called us 'friends' before, will you allow me to act as such?"

Kirk looked at him directly and gave him a soft smile. "Thank you Spock, for letting me in and trying to help. But I think I'm going to continue on my own path." He stood up then, and Spock stood up as well.

"If that is the case, perhaps you will allow me to accompany you."

Jim paused, blinking, and then gave him a soft smile, "Alright. That sounds good, after you Spock?"

"I will set this here, captain. I will be able to collect it later." That said the Lyre was left in the corner and the two of them continued out.

McCoy was the one the next shot focused on. He was standing near what had been Jim's quarters, the captain in question leaning heavily on Bones. The both of them seemed to be mildly tipsy. The doctor recognized it as one of their rituals of loss. They'd get shitfaced drunk, the pain was milder that way. The two of them had a bit more trouble trying to enter the access code than they would have liked, until the door next to them swished open.

Spock stood there, mildly dishelved, hair sticking up, and wearing black sweat pants and pulling his black undershirt on. He looked like he had just woken up, but didn't comment, merely pushed a few buttons for the two of them, helping the both of them in. That was another part of the ritual. A few moments later, Spock returned and walked McCoy down the hall back to his quarters.

It was always the middle of Gamma shift whenever that happened, so there was no harm to seeing any of them less than their best. Once again the frame stayed on that scene for longer than seemed necessary, but a moment later Jim came out of his room, looking much groggier and sleep tussled than Spock had. He turned to Spock's room and knocked. When there was no answer he knocked again, looking at the door helplessly and finally punching in some numbers on the code pad.

He let out a keening whine when he couldn't get it open, and slowly sank down next to the door, waiting for when Spock would return. He was whispering quietly to himself, Spock had apparently changed the volume a bit when he began researching it, because the words, "I don't want to be alone…" finally came through, repeating constantly and quietly. Spock came back a few minutes later, and immediately went over to the quietly rocking and whispering man and helped him upright, letting the captain lean on him heavily as he entered the code to his quarters and brought Jim in with him.

Later in the morning Jim came out of Spock's room, in the same clothes as before and looking well rested and sheepish, Spock came out as well, looking impeccably groomed and watching to make sure no one else had seen them come out of the same room.

"Thanks for letting me stay, Spock…you didn't have to…"

"It was no trouble, Jim. I have been aware of your fear and of what the alcohol you insist on drinking does to you for a while now. I apologize that I did not get back sooner."

"You shouldn't have to care for me like that…" Jim finally bit out, embarrassed and a little ashamed.

"I do not have to Jim. I choose to, just as Doctor McCoy would choose to should you let him in. He would be most displeased should he learn about your reactions."

"I don't want to be a bother to him…he's such a good friend and it's just…I don't want to impose."

"Jim…your thoughts are your own in this matter, but I must ask you to think about what your friend would say should he know. I shall see you in alpha shift later."

Spock turned around quietly and began walking away. McCoy had stared up at them in shock the entire time. His eyes widening as he slowly realized that what had supposed to have been a way to forget a tragedy had become a bigger tragedy when he left.

Spock had silently taken care of Jim when his fear of being alone had come out with the alcohol, and he had never told him. Had never told him what would happen to the captain whenever that would take place and Jim was alone to sit in his quarters, stare at the wall and contemplate his failures as a captain, as a man.

He had not known. He waved at Damon, the screen freezing in place as McCoy took a moment to process, face in his hands and thumbs rubbing at his temples. "Goddamn it Jim… Goddamn it…" He said quietly. He had thought it was enjoyable, Jim never said otherwise, and he had hoped that their ritual was as looked forward to as any of Spock's. Jim had never said anything, but now that he thought of it, it had been enjoyable for him. Whenever they did that in the Academy, weekends, random moments of friendship, the both of them had a good time. But Jim was never alone.

That was what tipped their gatherings from enjoyable to pain, but he had never asked him to stay. Didn't want to impose… He took a brief breath of air and looked back up, glaring at the screen, the half Vulcan's back straight and everything about him screaming of propriety, and the ruffled, grungy Captain standing in silent contemplation, his eyes following the man who was his opposite.

"Resume it…"

That said the scene resumed, Kirk still watching before giving a soft sigh. "I'm trying Mr. Spock… I'm trying…"

Time passed, and then opened with another private log. "This is Captain James T. Kirk, private log." His voice was quiet, his eyes were hooded and his mouth was pulled in a line. "Two of my crewmen are trapped on a hostile planet." He took a breath, his resolve cracking, slowly but surely before he finally slumped, his head in his hands and his posture slipping down. "Spock and Bones are trapped, on a hostile planet and they wouldn't let me come. I don't care if I'm the captain, I don't care if I'm supposed to be above the ordinary crewmen. I can't live without them. I can't."

He choked on a sob, "It's been two days. We still haven't heard from them, and Starfleet is only giving us the rest of the day before we have to go on. But we can't. I can't. I refuse to give the order. They can't die. They can't die. They're the only family I've ever had, the only ones that ever cared for me, and I _can't_ _lose_ _them_."

His shoulders were shaking, but he wasn't crying. Not yet. The comm. sounded, making his head lift up slowly and he reached out, pushing the button, "Kirk here."

"_Captain! We have 'em! I'm beamin' 'em up now, a medical team is on standby, get down here!" _Scotty's voice rang out; the smile could be heard in his voice it was that noticeable. Jim jumped up, his chair falling to the floor as he beamed from ear to ear,

"I'm comin' Scotty!" He shut the comm. off, and then his log, giving it a wide smile.

The next scene showed the sickbay. He remembered when they had insisted to have security cameras placed inside of it in places where the patients would be given privacy should curtains be set up, but otherwise would be in perfect view. Jim had stumbled in on what looked like a warzone. Nurses shouted at each other, the limp and bloody, but conscious body of their superior and the limp, and bloody and unconscious body of the commander moved from gurneys to biobeds, the shrill whining sirens belting their warnings. McCoy's own voice rang out, "Don't let him die, don't let him die, he can't die…" He was pale faced and had blood pooling at the corner of his mouth, but he was adamant. They finally sedated him.

A nurse McCoy recognized as Chapel took charge. Jim watched, unnoticed in the cacophony, as they fought to save the lives of his friends. He finally couldn't take any more and slunk out, into the hallway, where he looked around at the passing crewmembers.

A brown skinned African woman walked up out of nowhere and gently took his arm in her hand, steering him out of the main hall and into a quiet corner, the camera's tracking their progress. Finally they were in an empty room, and she sat Jim down on a table.

She reached over and placed a hand under his chin, slowly tilting it up, and looking into his eyes. "Jim…they'll be okay." Jim looked to the ground. Nyota changed her grip, cupping it, tilting it up farther until he had no choice but to look. She gave him a small watery smile, "They'll need you to be at your best when they're awake and can't do anything but lay there, so please Jim, believe me when I say they'll be alright."

Jim gave her a slight smile and let her wrap her arms around him in a friendly hug that was as much about her comfort as his. Finally she let go, and began engaging him in quiet conversation. When Jim's communicator sounded, he stood up, nodded to her and immediately left for sickbay.

When he was there he immediately headed to the curtained off beds that were right next to each other. He nodded at Chapel with a smile, the nurse inclining her head as well and smiling gently. The red and green blood on her smock was ignored, "Captain, they're stable. I think they'll be fine." That said Jim relaxed fully, and indicated the curtains.

"Go ahead, you get 10 minutes."

"I have a shift in five," Jim said with a soft smile. Chapel nodded, her eyes bright,

"Of course, sir…"

With that Jim slid between the curtains, out of sight of the security cameras. They could still hear his voice though, whispering his thanks that they were alive, telling them how worried he'd been, detailing quiet ships business for Spock and apologizing to Bones sarcastically that he'd have to listen to ships business when he's comatose. Five minutes later he left, smiling slightly, happy they were alive.

The next time Jim came back, Bones was awake, sitting up in bed and glaring crankily, shooting glances at the uncurtained area next to him and the half Vulcan who was lying on the biobed, either sleeping, or still comatose.

"Hi Bones!" Jim said happily, twirling the chair next to his bed and plopping on it backwards, crossing his arms over the back and smiling at him.

"Jim, remind me why I can't murder the hobgoblin?"

Jim's smile fell, "Because you'd hate yourself later, and I wouldn't be happy that one of my friends had killed another of my friends and was depressed about it." Bones blinked, and then sighed,

"Understatement I suppose." He bit out finally, looking over at Spock again with a much less angry frown, sadness leaking from every line.

"What happened, Bones?"

McCoy sighed, "They came out of nowhere, Jim. I don't know why we didn't expect it, but we didn't. We were examining one of those 'fascinating' flora species that Spock was rambling about, and then all of a sudden we were swarmed by these…things. I can't even describe them properly Jim… They were hideous as all hell, and way too damn intelligent for what they were said to be. Captured us and locked us up in some…thing. They just…tested us, tried to see how we ticked, Spock…melded with one of them. He was bleeding from the mouth and nose two minutes later."

"Oh…damn…why?"

"Apparently they were telepathic as well, didn't appreciate the intrusion from something they deemed a 'lesser species'," McCoy spat, glaring. "They gave him permission only to try and rip his mind to shreds. He prevented it from doing anything major, but…damn it Jim… I couldn't do anything but watch him bleed. I'm a doctor, damn it… I'm supposed to help people. Anyway…we managed to escape, and then the hobgoblin goes and does something else stupid."

"What did he do?" Jim asked quietly.

"That Pointy Eared Bastard took a damn bullet for me." McCoy snarled, "Right through the chest! Idiot's just lucky his heart's in his side or…" He swallowed, shaking his head. "We're lucky you found us when you did. I just took a nasty blow to my ribs and head…I'm fine though, Jim. So's Spock. He'll be just fine, just needs a bit of time to recover." His voice was gentle, his eyes sincere, knowing exactly the kind of hell Jim had been putting himself through unable to help what had become his surrogate family of brothers.

Jim wilted slightly, looking at the ground. "I was worried, Bones…"

"I know Jim, I'm sorry…" He sighed, looking at the ground and then over at Spock. "Green blooded hobgoblin…" He grumbled again, causing Jim to laugh.

"Take care Bones, I have a shift to get to. I'm glad you guys are alright."

"You better get your ass back down here afterwards, there's no way I'm gonna stay next to this idiot genius without a buffer."

Jim smirked at him. "I'll make it a point. By the way, tell him that he's an idiot for me, okay?"

"Now that I can do." Jim gave him one last smile, a rather overzealous bear hug, and walked out, leaving McCoy shouting after him in mock annoyance.

The next scene was what Leonard remembered as when Spock himself came out his Vulcan trance. McCoy was walking around sickbay by that time, and Jim was on his way. Any leftover hostility that McCoy had harbored was removed with each slap it took to bring Spock out of it. As soon as Spock grasped Leonard's wrist and nodded his head in thanks, McCoy collapsed on the chair next to the bed.

"Goddamn it Spock…Goddamn it…"

"Doctor?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow at him, slight confusion etched into that single gesture.

"You almost died you idiot…"

"The key word here, doctor, is 'almost'. As you can see, I am alive, whole might be too strong of a word, but I am still here."

"Yeah well…it was too close, Spock. You can't just take bullets for me, damn it!"

"I believe I can." Spock answered easily, raising an eyebrow at him. McCoy floundered, eyes wide as he gestured mutely. Spock's eyebrow rose higher, and he finally sighed. "Dr. McCoy, when you release me to quarters, I would request that both you and the captain come. I have something to show you. Something I need to explain."

"Can't tell me now?"

"No…It is something that needs to be shown. But I do not have the strength and clarity of mind to attempt it at the moment."

"Crazy Vulcan meldie thingie?"

Spock's eyes rolled in minor exasperation, "Indeed."

"Alright…" McCoy said softly.

Jim took that moment to arrive, plopping down on the bed next to Spock, smiling at him happily. "I'm going to hug you."

"If you have no other choice…"

Jim pulled him into a brotherly hug, grinning slightly, "I'm really glad you're still alive, Spock…" he whispered finally. Spock patted him on the back and under McCoy's urgings lay back down, his eyelids closing, and slipping off into sleep. The two friends still awake spoke quietly, still keeping even a sleeping Spock close to them, the only place for him.


	3. The Documentary Part 2

_I own nothing, this is further heightened by the fact that there are some TOS references, it includes one of my favorite lines from that show, cookies for the one who can spot it. _  
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The next scene did not seem to have any coherent connection to the last, opening at a quiet chess game, and McCoy waited calmly for Damon to pause it. Predictably enough, he did, indicating it quietly and looking at Leonard, "Doctor, something happened between those two scenes. I can understand if it is too personal to discuss, certain Vulcan customs are private, and what happened might be close to your heart. But I was hoping that you might be able to shed a little light on what precisely happened."

"Spock taught us a word. It's a very…well…'pretty' word, Vulcan, gave two meanings."

"What is that word?"

"T'hy'la, and he gave the translation as friend, or brother. It was only later that I found out it had a third meaning…when I confronted him about it…well, first I've never seen him turn that green in my LIFE, second he taught me that I really should shut my mouth when it comes to that sort of thing. Stupid Vulcan always had to have the last word."

"What was that third meaning?"

"Ask a Vulcan," McCoy snorted, "that'd be an interesting conversation right there…. Tell you what, you ask a Vulcan, and tell me how it goes."

"Anything else?"

"Well… It showed us we really were brothers, and it finally helped me get over what I'd been having difficulty with."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it helped me begin to understand that Spock was just as lonely as Jim was, and needed just as much help. Then you add to that fact that in Vulcan years…Spock was an adolescent." McCoy shook his head slightly, eyes fixed on the carpet, face drawn. "That kid was dead before he even had a chance."

"Doctor?"

"Ignore me… Just thinkin'." McCoy cleared his throat, looking up at the scene paused in front of him, then back at Damon. Damon gave him a slight smile and a nod, resuming it.

"I'll checkmate you this time for sure, Mr. Spock."

"If you are certain, captain."

"Jim, Spock, remember? It's Jim. If I'm the 'brother you never had' you're going to have to call me Jim. And yes, in a non-work related situation. I can accept that." Kirk said grinning. He seemed happier, lighter almost, and McCoy seemed grateful to that, sipping his drink in amusement as the two of them bantered quietly.

It was a quiet scene, something that Spock had to have decided to record, McCoy fished for reasons as he watched, sitting on the red chair in a world that was darker than it had been. He didn't like the reasons that came to mind. He looked at the date closer, and then registered it.

Seemed he was going to figure out what they had talked about after all.

Jim never did get to checkmate Spock that game, and the McCoy on the screen had a bit of fun teasing him about that fact. Jim just poked him and the three of them bantered back and forth for a little longer, before Jim and McCoy began packing up to return to their quarters. Leonard had always brought his own alcohol, Spock had never drank, and Jim's taste left too much to be desired. Jim had lost more than three games, and therefore the chessboard would go with him, give him a bit of a home field advantage. But this night, Spock asked to talk to Jim alone, giving McCoy an apologetic look and getting a wave off, "S'alright, idiot probably did something stupid."

Spock gave him a half smirk and then turned his attention to Jim, holding his hands out for the chessboard and pieces. Jim gave them to him, plopping back in his chair and looking up at him with a smile. "Alright Spock, what's up?"

The half Vulcan didn't comment on the human phrase at all, merely remained standing, looking at Jim quietly, brown eyes showing mild thoughts of turmoil. Jim sensed that the conversation would not be one he would enjoy, eyes shuttering slightly and his hands coming to rest in his lap, his pose turning more guarded.

"Captain…Jim…when our thoughts connected…I saw something…troubling." Spock was hesitating, Spock never hesitated, and McCoy was instantly on his guard, as, judging from the tension that came even from the screen he was watching, was Jim.

Jim looked to the ground, "Yeah? How so?"

"Jim… These thoughts I speak of…they were woven into your mind to the point where I could see neither beginning nor end."

"What kind of thoughts were they Spock?" Jim bit out, Spock seemed to flinch.

"Please, Jim, I did not mean to pry, but they were there, etched so deeply, and I…"

"What. Thoughts. Were. They?" He snarled, looking up at the half Vulcan who was looking down at his captain, eyes wide, eyebrows pinched.

"Jim… You desire to kill yourself." Spock said quietly, looking down at him, deflating even as the man in front of him seemed to inflate, standing up and somehow towering over the taller man. McCoy straightened, eyes wide, something he had believed to be true breaking into pieces, his mind slowly pulling through strands, shock making his jaw slacken.

"That is none of your concern."

"Jim…how is this not my concern?" Spock asked quietly, looking at him closely.

"You weren't supposed to know, you can't know. I…I… Spock, look," Jim gripped Spock's shoulder, "It's something I've gotten used to. It's always there, it's true, but you don't have to worry. I've got it covered, I promise."

"Jim…you do not 'have it covered'. It grows stronger every day. Please, Jim… I do not understand. I thought you were…happy here, that you had found a family. Where does this wish come from?"

"Spock, I don't expect for you to understand…"

"Why would I not?" Spock regained himself in that moment, regaining his place as the taller one, his eyes dark. Jim looked into those eyes for a moment, and gave him a slightly bitter smile.

"No wonder we click so well together," He finally said quietly. "Spock…look. I'm not going to kill myself. You don't have to worry." He started to walk away, picking the chessboard and pieces back up.

"Jim… After a time, one may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is illogical…but it is often true," Spock's voice was quiet, his eyes focused on the ground, and Jim blinked, and slowly nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Spock, thank you."

When Jim left, Spock looked to the recorder, and reached out, shutting it off, but not before they could clearly see his hand trembling.

The next scene showed a clearly worried Spock talking to a still adamant and angry Jim. The scenes continued, each one showing Spock's absolute desperation and determination to talk to his captain, to his brother. Trying to be there for him when he needed it, even though Jim seemed to treat him as a last resort, he was always there with an open ear or hand, ready to help.

Jim finally accepted it. Jim seemed to be getting better; McCoy seemed to be getting confused.

Finally he cornered Spock about it. "Alright hobgoblin, alright, what's going on?"

"I am unsure as to what you are referring, doctor."

"Jim, you, what is up with Jim and you, what exactly is going on."

Spock straightened slightly, his eyes dark, "Doctor McCoy, what precisely is it that you think is going on?"

"I don't know…" Bones said finally, "All I know is that someone who was my best friend isn't talking to me much anymore. I just… I don't know."

Spock softened at that, "Doctor… Please, trust me. I am not trying to take him away. I am trying to help him, you may or may not understand, but I must ask that you trust me."

McCoy looked at him closely, and slowly gave a nod. "I trust you, Spock. But he's my best friend. Don't hurt him too much."

"Some wounds must be torn open before they can be cleansed."

"Just be sure you don't tear too deep."

Spock inclined his head, "His pain will be mine."

Leonard gave a sigh, "Alright. If you need help, if he needs help, let me know. I am supposed to be this hunk of junk's resident psychologist after all."

"I will keep your offer in mind; I shall also keep you informed."

McCoy gave him a slight smile and a relieved nod, and left.

The next scene was another log from Jim, his eyes were red rimmed, but he seemed to be lighter than before, some burden had been removed. "We spoke about Tarsus IV today." The rest of the scene was cut, a large 'Lack of Starfleet Clearance' banner placed over the top of the picture and the words had been scrambled. McCoy stared up at that banner in horror, eyes widening. He finally just sank back in his chair, placing his head in his hands and rubbing his thumbs over his temples.

"Tarsus IV, doctor?" Damon's voice was quiet, hardly daring to break the silence that had followed.

"He never told me. I had guessed, I might have heard him rambling a bit when he got too drunk, but I never took him up on the offer. Something warned me to stay away from it. Spock actually got him to open up about it."

"Does that…bother you?"

McCoy jolted upright, glaring at the man over his shoulder, eyes flaming. "No. I don't care who Jim would talk to, if he could actually talk to Spock, if that hobgoblin could actually help Jim… Then I hope I get a chance to see him again to actually thank him for trying." His voice quieted, and he sighed. "No, that isn't what bothered me. What bothered me is that I stopped trying… The pointy eared bastard never said I had to quit hanging around, I just…figured that it would be better if I wasn't around as much, less baggage to deal with."

Damon recognized the bitter despair and regret in those words and his heart went out to the man that seemed more subdued than he had coming in. "It continues shortly, doctor…"

McCoy sighed and nodded, turning back to face the screen. When the scene next opened, Spock was sitting in front of his own log, straight backed, straight faced, but his hand was clenching and unclenching. It was obviously cut half way through and McCoy had to snort, trust Spock to be economical about what he put in there about his own life.

"He asked me about my mother." McCoy snapped to attention. "I was…hesitant to answer, and I realize this was a mistake, but it truly…made me hesitate. I have never been asked about my mother. I have never deigned to talk about my mother, and yet he asked me. I believe I understand now what he was referring to when discussing how difficult it was to 'open up' about things that one never talks about, and has never wished to talk about. But because I hesitated, he grew angry.

"I believe his exact words were, 'You believe you should know every last detail about me, but when it comes to you, I can't know a thing. Am I that unworthy?' I was quick to assure him of the fact that this was not the case; it was merely not something I had thought anyone would wish to know. I do not know why that made him look at me in that way… I truly do not know how to describe it, pity perhaps?" He shook his head slightly.

"He told me he would love to know, and proceeded to question me. It was…strange how easy it was to talk about it. I have agreed to let the doctor know what Jim and I have been discussing, while certain facts will not be given to him under direct request from Jim, I will attempt to say what I can. Jim is beginning to regret not bringing the doctor into these…meetings, but believes he would be better off for it. I cannot say whether I agree or not, but I must admit to finding his reasoning…flawed." The log was shut off.

The next scene was detailing the end part of a conversation, McCoy and Spock stood off to the side of the entrance to the mess hall, obviously waiting for Jim.

"He told you about that, huh?" McCoy was smiling, eyes bright.

"He did. I do not quite understand why he believed I would need to know, but he did tell me." Spock seemed just under disgusted, his eyebrows lightly pinched.

"It's going to be haunting you for the rest of your life, isn't it?" McCoy asked, grinning at him widely.

Spock inclined his head once, causing McCoy to burst out laughing.

"Well, just don't give me details; I don't need those images running through my brain as well as yours."

"I shall attempt to refrain…"

"Oh, there's Jim, look annoyed," McCoy said, peering past some of the heads in his way.

"Doctor, I never look annoyed," Spock replied, his eyebrow raising.

McCoy glared at him, "Sure you do, you're annoyed right now, you hobgoblin."

"I am not 'annoyed', annoyance is a human emotion, and one I do not suffer with," Spock answered easily.

"You stubborn bastard!"

Jim popped up at that moment, a slight grin on his face, "Do you argue all the time, or is it just for my amusement?"

"Partly for your amusement," Spock stated automatically.

"Damn Vulcan's…can't lie for crap…"

"I do not know why anyone would lie for fecal matter…" with that he turned and left, leaving a guffawing Jim and a flabbergasted McCoy behind him.

The McCoy on the chair looked just as flabbergasted for a moment and finally smirked, "Damn Vulcans….they always know…"

"The purpose for that scene?"

"I think the hobgoblin just wanted to remind me, the bastard…"

"You believe…he knew you would watch?"

McCoy was silent for a moment. "Why would I not?"

The next scenes showed progress, showed healing, Jim speaking and becoming more confident about sharing his feelings, opening up. But then something went wrong, something that shared just how fragile the captain still was.

Spock was captured on an away mission.

When that happened, Jim seemed to stop breathing. McCoy watched the scenes that followed with a type of despairing hopelessness as Jim began quietly regressing into the state he had been before. Only this time he was worse. He still went to shifts, he still ordered missions and ate and talked to Bones, but he was a shell, and all the while they searched for him. The possibility that Spock had been taken off world was dismissed, and that was the only thing that seemed to keep Jim going.

When they finally found him and beamed him up, Spock was shivering and half dead, flinching when anyone got too close. And Jim took it personally.

Damon paused the recording, nodding his head at it, "Doctor…for clarification, would you mind explaining exactly what was done to Mr. Spock?"

McCoy shuddered, remembering what he had found out with disgust and pain. "Spock was locked in an underground cell; the temperature was cold, much too cold for a Vulcan and the dampness to it had not helped his core temperature at all. But that wasn't what finally drove the nail in the coffin for a while; the constant scrutiny he had received was what had done it. I don't know what it was with that bastard attracting all the psycho telepaths of the universe, but dear God did he get them." McCoy snorted.

"They…"

"Almost cracked him like an egg, but that…Vulcan was able to collect every last shred of himself and hide it, everything important that made Spock, Spock, he hid. Only problem was he hid it so deep he almost lost it. It took two Vulcan healers, and one…very important element to piece everything back together, and when it did piece together…" He shook his head, "I actually began to understand why Vulcan's work so hard on controlling their emotions."

Spock had chosen clips that didn't focus on his recovery; he barely focused on any particular reaction that happened when he was out of sorts, but when it came to Jim's reaction when he was finally able to talk to the man who had become like a brother to him, he dissected it. Spock was still out of sorts, he didn't appreciate it when anyone approached him from the back, and his reactions were a beat of a second quicker than they should be, but he was finally Spock.

Jim avoided him for days before Spock finally cornered him, eyes locked on the tense form of his captain as the blue eyes glared. "Jim…you have been avoiding me. May I ask why?"

The abrupt statement of what was going on and the direct way of saying it made Jim sag. "Why do you have to make it so hard to avoid you?"

"I do not know."

Jim laughed, "You scared me, Spock," he finally said, somberly. Spock inclined his head,

"I apologize Jim, I did not mean to."

"It's not your fault. You can't apologize for what those bastards did to you; you can't apologize for how you reacted. You _shouldn't_ have to, but, it made me think. What do I do if you die? How am I going to survive that?"

Spock straightened, eyes flashing, "Should either the doctor or myself die before you do, it would be wise of you to think of the others that will still remain. You must remember Jim that we are not what you have to live for. You should not have to live through others; you must learn to live through yourself."

"I understand that. It's just…it's difficult. How do you do it?"

Spock froze blinking slightly. "I believe there is a saying, 'yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift, that is why it is called the present'."

Jim gave a soft snicker, "A little trite, isn't it?"

"It is, but I have found that the wisest of sayings that come from humans are often the ones that are considered 'trite'. I believe it is a fault in judgment."

Jim smiled at that, "Yeah, humans are definitely full of those."

"You understand what I am saying, Jim?"

"Take it one day at a time."

"Indeed."

"I'll try and keep that in mind."

"Please…even if I am dead or otherwise incapacitated I would not wish to have your death as a price for it, neither would the doctor."

Jim gave him a tense smile, "I can understand that."

"But you have not changed your mind…"

Jim gave him a weary smile, "Can you change your mind on your views about logic?"

Spock blinked, and gave a small weary nod, "I believe the word is 'touché'." His voice was subdued, and Jim touched his arm gently.

"But I promise I'll try."

"Then that is all I will request from you."

"For the moment?"

"For the moment," Spock affirmed with a small inclination of his head.


	4. The End, and the Beginning

_This is the last chapter, it's also the death scene (nooooooo). I hope you can bear with me on this. Let me know_ _how you liked it. Let me know if I actually managed to bring tears. I had a bit of fun with the timeline though, so if you see 'Deneva', which you will, understand that I'm putting this at about two years after Nero's big thing, they're all around upper twenties to lower thirties. I hope it's decent. It's been a difficult chapter to write, which is the only reason it took so long, so apologies for that. That said, I hope you enjoy. I am not sure about the rating, if you believe that T is too low, let me know and I will change it. I really wasn't sure, so I apologize if it might be a bit much for a T. _

* * *

The next scene was the only one to open on the bridge of the ship. McCoy took a moment to simply stare at it, eyes trailing over the place he had spent almost as much time in as the sickbay, taking in the positions of all the people he remembered. Chekov and Sulu were smiling and laughing over some joke that the captain had told, Scotty moving to stand next to the three of them as Jim leaned closer, whispering another one. This time the Scott laughed as well. Nyota was shooting them amused looks, but when Jim turned to look at the rest of the bridge her look turned disapproving. Jim just stuck his tongue out at her.

It was something McCoy could actually remember with fondness, true contentment, and the moment when Jim hopped up and headed over to Spock's station, or _snuck_ over to Spock's station (the two of them had begun a game, or Jim had, he'd try and sneak over to Spock's station and surprise him without the Vulcan noticing) the memory was complete. Spock didn't even turn around, simply gave a quiet, "Captain." Jim slumped on the railing in defeat.

Scotty laughed at that, "Got ye again, laddie."

"It's those damn Vulcan ears of his," Jim grumbled a twinkle in his eye.

"My apologies, were you attempting to be unheard? I was unaware."

Jim's mouth dropped as the rest of them cracked up, "Oh come on! I wasn't that loud!"

Spock paused, and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Spock," Jim grouched.

"I did not say anything…"

"Not true, I could hear your eyebrow calling me a dumbass from here," Jim interrupted, smiling at him widely, the rest of them laughed, Spock's eyebrow raising all the higher in response.

McCoy sat in his chair and watched as the bridge crew bantered back and forth, a quiet scene that displayed nothing more than the connection that the crew had with one another. The way they clicked, and the fact that it was _Jim_ who held them all together. "Who would have guessed that the hobgoblin would be so sentimental…" He mumbled quietly, watching the scene in unblinking concentration, wishing to turn the clock back, wishing to revisit those years.

Wishing to change them so Jim would never…

McCoy closed his eyes, unable to watch the scene any longer, hunching further when he heard his own voice leave the speakers. He didn't want to think of those times of peace and joy, the moments of friendship and family he had had with those people.

He didn't want to think of what he had lost.

The thought of it was enough to drive him to ruin. But he couldn't follow that path. He had to hope that Spock…

He couldn't think about him either. Not of that kid that lost everything, that finally lost himself. He couldn't handle it.

When the word 'Deneva' came, he was almost relieved. It would be over soon. He wouldn't have to torment himself any more of thoughts of what _could_ have happened, what _might_ have finally pushed Jim over the edge. He would know.

He already had a pretty good idea.

It started the same way as any other horribly butchered mission. Spock discussing something to do about the mission with Jim. In this case it was something that they also talked about with McCoy, asking him about the mass insanity that had spread through that part of the galaxy in a line, taking over planet after planet. Deneva was the next spot, and it also seemed to be making Jim fidgety in a way that McCoy remembered not understanding. He still didn't. Not truly. What made Deneva so different?

The conversation was quiet, and Spock hadn't edited the sound, but McCoy could still recall what was said, the fact that the madness went in a linear direction, that there was no medical reason, how they were unable to contact the planet, and the fact that all of this made Jim very nervous. Nervous wasn't even the right word. Terrified might have worked better, terrified and desperate to hide it. But he didn't know why. Spock had even looked confused, whatever Jim had been scared of, he hadn't broached the topic with Spock yet.

McCoy watched as Jim became more frantic with worry, and the moment when a ship was reported to be flying towards the sun was the only thing that drew him out of it. Leonard was silent, simply watching the young man in his element as he ordered them to follow, see if they could pull him out. Just when they had to stop the words, "Free, they're finally gone, we're free!" sounded from the link that had been kept open. They burned up not even seconds later.

But that had been the clue they needed in the hell that had followed.

They turned their heading to Deneva, the suicide of those on that ship quietly mourned. But there was nothing they could do. They had to continue.

The scene changed, this time to Kirk as he sat in front of his desk, recording another log. "Sam's there, as well as his family. My brother's on Deneva…" His voice was barely louder than a whisper, his eyes wide and his expression haunted. McCoy swore viciously, things clicking into place.

"We're getting ready to beam down. I don't want to think that Sam's… Sam was the only one who was ever there for me. Who helped me when Frank… If he's…dead, I don't think I could bear it. I haven't talked to him in a month, I've never told Spock about him, never told Bones… But I do still contact him. He's married to Aurleen, has a son named Peter, they have another baby on the way. They can't be… They can't."

The log cut off, leaving McCoy to sit in silence as the cameras in sickbay showed their new arrivals, people McCoy now knew to be Jim's sister in law, and his nephew. Jim was talking to Aurleen quietly, the woman in such pain that she was barely coherent, could barely understand. But still she talked, still Jim listened, replying to her quietly, trying to make her comfortable, and trying to be there for her. When she died it was as though a light that everyone had taken for granted turned off.

McCoy remembered the look on Jim's face when he told him that the man they had found lying under his desk was dead. Sam. Sam was dead. Jim's brother had died, and neither Spock, nor McCoy had known that. He swallowed, closing his eyes and shaking his head, if they had known, if he had told them, would they have been able to save him? Would it have even mattered?

As he watched, and as Spock was infected with the same parasites that created the madness, and he watched Jim's slow spiral into despair and confusion, he realized it would probably have not mattered. When Spock lay prostrate after attacking the bridge, stretched out on the biobed, restrained, jerking and moaning, pain running through every vein, Jim sat next to him, head bowed, eyes closed. The moment Spock came to and began regaining himself, promising that he was in control now, that he was fully capable and desperately asking that Jim "Let me help…" it was almost more than Jim could bear.

But McCoy figured that what finally started it was this conversation shortly after Spock returned with a live specimen and they began trying to kill it:

"Should we not find a way to remove the parasite, it is logical to destroy it before it has a chance to spread further."

"Spock, that would mean…you, all those people, the only way to destroy it is to destroy them. Are you suggesting that I bomb the planet, and my nephew, and you?!" Jim shouted out, standing bolt upright, glaring into the brown eyes that were so cold, so emotionless. The first time they had truly been such, and McCoy knew that that scared him.

The doctor on the screen stood up as well, anger flashing, "You pointy eared bastard, what good will that do?"

"It is the lives of six billion people compared to the fate of a galaxy, doctor. It is logical, the needs of the few, do not outnumber the needs of the many."

"You heartless bastard."

"Doctor, I do not think you understand. I do not wish to die, but this pain…this…madness… Doctor, were I to choose, I would choose death over insanity, my death over the will to hurt and kill what has become my friends, my family and take this ship. For that is what it wishes me to do, doctor. That is what it wishes me to do, and it is difficult to resist." Spock seemed to sag on the screen, and the words 'I would choose death over insanity' were branded into McCoy's mind like a hot poker, making him sag, making him curl and hunch in the chair he was sitting on, eyes closing and his heart twisting in pain. The McCoy on the screen just glared, spitting out,

"And what of the rest of them, would they choose death as well?! Would that boy?!"

Spock's eyes followed McCoy's pointing finger and he hunched, the brown eyes finally turning back to stare at him, "I do not wish to die, doctor, but I believe there is no other choice."

"I won't accept that," Jim finally said, voice quiet, dark. The anger that he was feeling was palpable, and they looked at him in surprise. Jim glared at Spock, blue eyes spitting fire, "You aren't going to die, none of them are going to die. I will NOT kill billions of people. I will not become like Nero. I will not do that to you, I will not do that to them."

At the mention of that Romulan, Spock flinched, perfectly visibly; eyes turned away, pain written in every line. "I do not wish to make you like him…" he finally whispered.

"Good. Then find another option. I leave it in your capable hands." He stalked out, but the camera angle changed. As soon as he was out of sickbay, and realized he was alone, he collapsed back into the wall, and sobbed. "I can't kill them, I can't kill them… Oh, God…Sam, was that pain something you had to put up with?"

McCoy watched, wishing to reach out and wrap his arms around that man, if only for a second, just to comfort, just to offer his shoulder. But he knew it would never happen. That he never could.

When they reported back later with no progress, even using the clue the man had given them when he had shouted out that he was free of it when they had went into the sun, he watched something inside Jim curl up and die. When he finally hit on what it was that would destroy them, and whispered it out the first time, McCoy remembered wanting to put his head through the wall, and knew for a fact that it was only due to Spock's focus on control that they had forgotten something so obvious: light.

"What if they're killed by light?"

They had a small argument on the matter, but when Spock agreed that it was plausible… McCoy remembered hope sparking to life when he had had none. They worked on it, testing it on the creature by subjecting it to the same amount of light it would be exposed to with the satellites.

It had died. The relief that passed through them was short lived when they began questioning its effectiveness when it was inside a host. Spock volunteered. McCoy was protesting, trying to insist on protective goggles… Jim and Spock had been adamant against it.

When Spock came out of that chamber and walked into the table and admitted to being blind, calling it an 'equitable trade', Jim stumbled back, something else tearing. But then the results came in, and McCoy read with a look of absolute despair on his face that it was the ultraviolet light that had done it. Spock wouldn't have needed to be blinded.

It was too much for Jim.

The hours that happened next were some of the worst in McCoy's memory. Spock was staying in sickbay with the doctor, sitting on the biobed quietly, when all of the sudden a warning blared out. Life support was off. They immediately tried to get out, finding the door locked, McCoy's override didn't work. Something had tricked the computer into believing something in the room itself was contaminated. McCoy stumbled back, shock and horror on his face as he realized something, someone, had done this deliberately.

But McCoy remembered thinking that wasn't the worst of it; the worst of it was, he thought he knew who it was. But at that moment in time, that hadn't mattered, what mattered was this: they were trapped in the dark, they were trapped without contact, they were running out of oxygen, and they were running out of time.

When Spock had somehow managed to tear the vent off the ceiling while blind, his eidetic memory providing him with the area, after he stumbled into almost every surface attempting to get there he acted as a ladder to get the patients, nurses, and one doctor into the way out. The scene changed then, Spock stumbling down a hallway, ears perked for Jim, finding him arguing with McCoy, anger and fury and desperate sadness filling those blue eyes as he shouted that he was sorry, that he didn't know why.

McCoy had backed away, fear and despair in his heart. He left before he could say anything, Jim falling to his knees behind him. Spock stumbled forward, and Jim looked up, seeing those listless brown eyes that focused on nothing and backed away, fear and horror the only expressions on his face.

Spock heard him, and he stumbled forward, dropping to his knees after tripping on an indent in the carpet, "Jim…please, do not leave me in the dark. Do not leave me." Jim crawled away faster. "Please, Jim." He reached a hand out to his brother, out to his friend, and Jim stood up and ran away, leaving Spock to kneel in the middle of the hallway, nerves wracked with pain, and sightless eyes staring into nothing, one hand outstretched, desperately, illogically hoping that he would come back. That he would help.

He never came, and the scene changed once more.

McCoy watched with his fingers digging into the chair as Jim began toying with the knife he had taken out of his desk drawer on screen. Hazel eyes remained locked on every twist and turn of that knife until he held it in one hand, blue eyes hollow and worn. Next moment the knife had been dropped to the desk, his head falling into his hands and his shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs,

"What did I do? What did I do…" His voice was choked with tears, "Bones…Oh god, Bones… What is wrong with me?" He finally whispered, "What is wrong with me…why am I always left here, with this option, why must it always end in death…why must I always hurt the ones I care about? I'm so sorry Bones… I know you didn't mean it, I don't know if you'll ever watch this… I don't know if you'll ever understand… But… I'm sorry. I can't do it anymore. Spock's…he's blind, Sam's dead…all those people… It's my fault..."

He straightened slightly, finally looking at the recorder, eyes red rimmed and face flushed, misery in every line as he took the knife up. "I should have never existed. This universe was never supposed to have a James T. Kirk. I've finally figured that out. I just don't know why it's taken me so long. I was almost killed at my birth, I was stuck in an abusive home life, I almost killed myself at twelve… I've almost killed myself so many times, almost been killed by others… I think it's about time that I finished the universes job, right?"

"I'm so sorry…you probably won't ever understand, but I want you to know that I wanted this…" Jim whispered out, and with a flash of crimson tore the knife through his wrist and up the arm, directly through the artery, and followed it up through the other arm. He had known where to cut for years, how to have it happen in the shortest amount of time possible, how to keep it clean and free flowing.

He would bleed out in less than four minutes.

Jim placed his head on his desk and waited, falling into a half dreamlike state as more blood flowed down his arms, down his hands, splashing to the floor.

McCoy could only stare in horror, eyes tearing, his mouth moving soundlessly, quietly asking 'why, oh God, why…'

Five minutes later, something happened that made McCoy's heart clench, and Jim's head rise weakly; someone pounded on the door. From the brisk, yet still controlled falls, there was no doubt as to who was actually behind that door, and Jim seemed to perk slightly, eyes brightening even under the haze of death that was creeping over them.

"Jim?" Spock's voice called out, an air of pleading and desperation in his voice, and Jim had never been able to resist that. Never for his friend, never for his brother, he weakly pushed himself out of the chair, taking a shaky step forward, only to collapse, the recorder skidding across the floor to get lodged in place by a pile of clothes, focusing on Jim as he struggled.

There was no knock on the door, Spock was never one to give up easily, but McCoy's heart twisted, "Don't go in there hobgoblin, don't go in there, please…don't make it so I lose both of you, don't take yourself away too…"

The bathroom door was broken open; Spock silhouetted there in sharp relief, his face at first showing Vulcan proper levels of concern, only to fall into shock, which melted directly into horror. "Jim…"

"Spock…you can see…" Jim whispered, his face pale with blood loss, but somehow managing to smile. There were tears trickling down his face, and Spock snapped out of his stupor momentarily, paging the doctor, pain visible in every line of his face, his eyes seeming to age. He tore strips out of the blanket, creating makeshift tourniquets and tying them above the gaping wounds, but never once did he look at Jim.

"Spock…Spock, look at me please…"

Spock didn't, his eyes focused on his own hands, staring at the red blood there, his eyes half focused and dead. "How could you do this, to yourself Jim...how could you do this?"

"I'm sorry, Spock…" He whispered, "I'm sorry…"

The Vulcan's hands placed pressure on the wounds, eyes focused on the blood.

"Is it as worth it as you thought it would be?"

Jim's eyes flooded and he gave a sharp inhale of air, but he didn't answer.

They were silent, one fighting to keep the other alive, one trying desperately to keep breathing, "Spock… I don't think I want to die. I think you were right…you were right, I don't like it now that I have it, in fact, I don't want it at all. I'm so cold."

Spock bowed his head, his forehead resting on his captains, his mind snaking in, trying to comfort, trying to help, trying to tug Jim back to the surface. But no matter how hard he tried he slipped farther and farther away, "Jim, do not go where I can't follow. Please, do not leave me, do not leave us, it wasn't your fault, can't you see…"

Jim was weakening, but even then he could feel the soft plip of something falling onto his face, "Spock…Spock, are you crying? You can't cry, Spock, you can't cry…not for me, not for such a waste, I'm not worth it. I'm too stupid to know that what I always wanted was right in front of me."

"Jim, you were never a waste. You always knew, you always knew, you were just too afraid to take it, and I was too afraid to push. I am sorry, Jim. I am sorry…"

Jim seemed to struggle against the hold of something that clung to his chest, clung to his mind, clung to his nose and mouth, "Spock…it's…no- your…faul-"

The younger doctor burst in on the scene a few minutes later to find a stunned half Vulcan huddled over a bloodless corpse, the knife fallen near the desk. He stumbled back, the team behind him that had been too busy saving the rest of the people who had beamed up from the surface to spare for a quick call that held no real details falling into wails of shock and horror. But none of that compared to the doctor who fell into a rage.

The McCoy in the chair watched in sorrow as that doctor shouted at the half Vulcan, the words that had been held with such playful intent before now used to truly cut and tear, the medical team leaving in fear and despair to spread the rest of the news.

Spock looked up at McCoy from where he sat on the ground, his brown eyes green rimmed and shattered, "Please, doctor…I…"

"It's your fault you green blooded bastard. I hope you suffer as much as he did."

Spock flinched, and the McCoy in the chair clutched his chest, his eyes welling up, mouthing "you idiot, you idiot…you don't mean it, why'd you have to say it?'

Jim's body was taken from his grasp, and Spock was left to huddle up on the floor, red blood staining the blue of his torso as he stared at the red on his hands and wept.

There was one last entry, the half Vulcan sitting in front of his desk. "This is Commander Spock of Vulcan and of Earth. I have done all it is I have set out to do, in this chip is the full story of what happened to the captain of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, and it is my fault. I can never hope to make up for what I have done. I do not deserve life, just as I do not deserve death. But death has never seemed so appealing to me."

The screen went black, leaving a doctor sitting in a dark room, his head in his hands as he wept, bitterly and profusely, Damon stood up, leaving the room, leaving the door open for a figure that stood just outside the door. The recorder kept rolling.

"The hobgoblin tried to kill himself two days after that log. I was the one to find him, half bled out all over the place. I couldn't talk to him, he wouldn't listen. We took him to a psyche ward, he's been there ever since, and this time it is my fault. Oh God…Spock, Jim…why did I have to mess up so bad, why did I have to let you go? What did I do to deserve this burden, what did I do?"

"Doctor…"

"Don't doctor me, you pointy eared bastard!" The words he said seemed to catch up with his brain, and Dr. McCoy looked up, tears sliding down his face, into the haunted black eyes of a man, _Vulcan_, that he thought he'd never see again. "Spock…" He breathed out, looking up at him in shock, "Spock!"

The half Vulcan gave him the barest hint of a smile, his face a little more hollowed than McCoy had remembered, and his eyes were blacker, but he recognized him. McCoy stood up slowly; aging joints making him take more time than he wanted to. When they were face to face, McCoy's eyes trailed up to the white hair that sprung from the Vulcan's head, product of a life spent in the psyche ward and the stress of seeing your friend die and believing it to be your fault. "Your hair's different."

"It is…"

"Spock…" He reached out slowly, grasping the thin Vulcan warm shoulders covered in a long black robe, "Spock…" With that one word he pulled him to him in a tight embrace, the two men clinging on each other in the throes of reopened grief and despair, tears running down faces as they clutched at each other, trying to bleed their grief out. Trying to make it hurt less by finding it in the heart of another.

"Doctor…Doctor, we have lost Jim…"

"I know, Spock, God do I know…"

"But Leonard…"

"Yes, Spock, what is it?"

"You will never lose me."

McCoy hugged him tighter, burying his head in his shoulder, "Thank you Spock…"

"One does not thank the truth, Leonard," and there, in the arms of a half Vulcan who had dealt with more pain than a being should ever have to, McCoy found he still had the ability to smile, and find a reason to laugh.


End file.
